Feelin’ Hot, Hot, Hot

There’s a long standing tradition we have at the Jersey shore dating as far back as I can remember.

We gather our daily beach belongings, pile them into a rickety old Radio Flyer, and wheel them to the end of the street where the pavement meets the sand. When we arrive at that point, the process of de-piling our gear from the wagon begins.

Painting by Gerald Guarino

Items are divided amongst all free hands with nothing left behind…except for the flip-flops that safely took our toes down what seemed to be an endless, pebbly road.

Ninety percent of the time, the finely tuned system was flawless. But it was the rare 10% that made us rethink the entire process. Every once in awhile, mostly at midday, the sand would become so extraordinarily hot that it would be unbelievably unbearable to walk, run or even cartwheel back to our wagon waiting for us near the road. A break for the bathroom or even a cool cocktail seemed as agonizing a feat as the ancient custom of firewalking.

Despite the occasional running of the coals, we continued to flip our flops at the edge of the sand and risk what went along with being barefoot on the beach.

In case you would prefer to forego tradition to save your sole-ful skin, here are a few flip flops to take the firewalking out of your festivities.